


not so pretty please

by tgrsndshrks



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bratting, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10050863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgrsndshrks/pseuds/tgrsndshrks
Summary: “Kiss it,” Brian says. Trent just looks at him. “C'mon. Kiss it. It'll be cute.” Trent waits a long moment before dropping his head forward and pressing his lips to the knife.or, trent gets tied up and edged and is a brat about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i know, it's not tim/john, what kinda weird shit is this. we'll be back to our regularly scheduled Pretty Blonde Bitches soon
> 
> julien tumblr user nailingtrent did a couple drawings where trent's a bratty shithead of a sub, and i'm passionate about that kinda content. also maul did a fic with bratty sub trent, and stuie encouraged this too, so here i am.
> 
> the knifeplay just kinda happened on accident. sorry?? when will i write something normal, i know
> 
> title from sweet tooth by marilyn manson. this is unbeta'd and it's almost 3 am. let me live.

“How long's it been then?” Brian asks, voice coming from behind Trent. He pulls the rope a little tighter and ties it to the lowest rung on the back of the chair, the other end fastened around Trent's wrists behind his neck. Trent huffs a bit, trying to stretch his arms out as best he can, but they're pretty firmly pulled back.

“Seventeen days,” Trent says, squirming in the chair a little. The leather of his pants sticks a bit, but he couldn't get up if he wanted to, mainly due to the fact that Brian already took the liberty of tying his boots to the chair legs by the laces.

“Shit,” Brian says, coming back around the chair. Trent looks up from under furrowed brows, eyes moving up the lattice of scars and cuts on Brian's torso to his face. Brian looks amused, like he could laugh at Trent's predicament. Trent's already hard, straining in the leather. “That's a long fucking time.” Brian's fiddling with his pocket knife, clicking the blade in and out of place.

“Your fault, fucker,” Trent says, shrugging as best he can with his arms bent back over his shoulders. 

“How many of these black shirts do you have?” Brian asks, gesturing at him with the blade of the knife.

“If you cut it off me I'll totally kick your ass later,” Trent says. Brian snorts a laugh.

“Is that a promise?” he asks, dropping to a knee between Trent's legs. Brian pulls the collar of Trent's shirt out, presses the blade to his lips, raises his brows.

“You're an asshole,” Trent says. Brian just grins, brings the knife to the collar of Trent's shirt and slices through it. He sheaths the blade and pockets the knife before grabbing at either side of the collar and pulling, ripping the shirt open. Trent winces a bit at being exposed, but Brian ignores him, ripping clean down the front.

“Are you already hard?” Brian asks, when he gets to the bottom hem. He tears through it, and Trent makes a noncommittal noise. Brian sighs, pulls the knife again. “I'm gonna need you to answer me when I ask you shit.” Trent doesn't look put off in the slightest, just watches the blade instead of Brian's face.

“Yeah,” Trent says. “You haven't let me jerk off in over two weeks.” Brian brings the pocket knife to Trent's mouth, and Trent leans his head back.

“Kiss it,” Brian says. Trent just looks at him. “C'mon. Kiss it. It'll be cute.” Trent waits a long moment before dropping his head forward and pressing his lips to the knife. Brian just smiles, drags the blunt end down his neck to his chest. “Good boy,” Brian says. “Truth be told I kinda lost track of how long it'd been since I let you get off last.” He presses the tip of the blade in enough to indent into Trent's skin, but not break it. Trent's stiff and still, breath shallow.

“You won't do it,” Trent says, not a question, a statement. Maybe a challenge. Brian scrapes the knife down Trent's sternum, leaving a white line.

“We've got more important shit to deal with today than cleaning up your blood,” Brian says, moving the hand with the knife to Trent's lap, laying it along the line of dick in his pants. “I owe you one, considering I haven't made you wait this long before. Unless you want to go for an even twenty days, or maybe a month-”

“Fuck you,” Trent spits out, and Brian's hand moves so fast Trent can't tell which side of the knife is against his neck.

“Being rude isn't how you earn an orgasm, is it?” Brian asks. Trent swallows.

“No,” he says petulantly.

“Thought so,” Brian says, and when he takes the knife away, Trent sees it was the blunt side. “Back to this.” He undoes Trent's belt and his pants. “If I didn't know what a scarcity underwear are on tour, I'd cut these off you too, but I'm feeling nice.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Trent remarks. Brian gives him a look, but chooses to ignore his sarcasm. He just tugs Trent's pants and underwear down enough to get his dick out, and Trent squirms at the sudden rush of cold air against hot skin. Brian spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around Trent's length and Trent's mouth falls open, gasping at the slightest content.

“Jesus Christ,” Brian says, kneeing closer to Trent, working him idly. “I don't think I've ever seen you this wound up.”

“Again,” Trent grits out, spreading his legs as much as he can with his ankles bound, “your fucking fault.” His breath catches when Brian quickens his pace.

“I think I made a good call, then,” Brian says. He turns his hand over and Trent moans through clenched teeth. “You gonna come already?”

“No,” Trent says, despite his cock jerking at the mention of an orgasm.

“Well that's good,” Brian says. “You won't mind if I do this then.” He lets his hand slick off Trent's length and Trent groans in frustration, trying to buck his hips.

“Fuck,” Trent hisses. Brian actually laughs, smiles with teeth, and Trent would normally find that endearing, but he sort of wants to smack the grin off his face.

“I bet you'd come if I breathed on your dick too hard,” Brian remarks. He drags a knuckle up the underside of Trent's cock and Trent shudders. “I kind of like you like this. Maybe I should do your pants back up and we can go for a month and see how desperate you are then.”

“Fuck, no,” Trent chokes out, and Brian's eyes meet his. Trent swallows thickly, visibly. “Please.” Brian hums.

“Please, huh?” he asks. “Awfully polite of you.”

“Just-” Trent huffs, tries to shake the hair out of his eyes, “-can I please be allowed to come?”

“I'll think about it,” Brian says, and Trent whines low and long as he starts working his dick again. Brian's grip is tight, long fingers squeezing, too dry, too much.

“Fuck,” Trent says, his head falling back. He fucks up into Brian's fist and Brian's free hand shoves his ass back down onto the chair. Trent looks back down when Brian lets go, but it's just long enough to spit in his palm again and he gets back to it quickly. Trent pants, gasps for air. It's embarrassing, really, how close he is, and this fast, but he knows better than to come without asking. “Can I, can I-”

“No,” Brian says, and Trent growls in the back of his throat. Brian brings his hand all the way down to his base, just his thumb and forefinger tight around it. “Hold it.” Trent pulls uselessly at his wrists, arms starting to ache.

“God, I hate you right now,” Trent mumbles, head falling over against his arm.

“Don't be fucking rude,” Brian says. “I can leave, y'know. Then you'd really be fucked.” Trent chews his lip. “Unless you want me to leave. Maybe let Robin or Danny find you when they come looking for you for soundcheck. Or Chris, or Charlie – oh man, that'd be really humiliating; you _just_ hired him. What d'you think he'd-”

“Stop,” Trent says, pushing his hips up, cock jerking, neglected.

“Stop what,” Brian says, raising an eyebrow, that dumb fucking smirk on his face. “You used this word earlier, starts with a P. I really like that one.”

“Please,” Trent grits out. “Fucking. Please.” Brian's smirk turns into a smile.

“Alright,” he says, wrapping his fist around Trent's dick again. Trent sighs in relief. “How 'bout three more?” Trent looks at Brian.

“What?”

“Three more times,” Brian says, already working his fist hard, and Trent feels it tightening in his gut. “You ask three more times, then I'll let you come.”

“Do I get to come on the third one, or is it three, then I get to come?” Trent asks. Brian scoffs. Semantics. Textbook Reznor.

“We'll see,” Brian says. Trent keens, trying to hide behind his elbows, turning in towards one.

“I can't,” Trent whines. “I can't keep fucking holding it.”

“Yes, you can,” Brian says, and it's oddly reassuring. Trent takes a deep breath and it comes out shaky.

“Can I come,” Trent says, but it's emotionless. Brian lets go anyway, and Trent's cock falls against his stomach. “Ugh, fuck.”

“I wish you could feel how hard you are,” Brian says, and grabs him again. Trent hisses, too sensitive for Brian's tight grip. “It's fucking weird.”

“You try going without jerking off for the better half of a month and getting teased by someone as sadistic as you,” Trent says, voice thin and needy. Brian laughs once, halfheartedly.

“Not my thing,” he says. He spits again, right on Trent's cock this time, and it's a lot for Trent to process.

“Fuck,” Trent gasps. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” Brian's working him quickly, palm slicking over his head every few strokes, and Trent knows he's close, on a hair trigger. “Fuck, stop, _please_.”

“Are you gonna come?” Brian asks.

“Yes, please, fuck,” Trent groans, head back, jaw clenched, and Brian fucking lets go again. “Fuck!”

“Is that the only word you know now?” Brian remarks.

“I'm gonna fucking,” Trent starts to say, but closes his eyes, breathes. “Listen. It's hard to think of words right now.”

“One more time?” Brian asks. He waits, lets Trent catch his breath, and Trent drops his jaw back down. He looks at Brian and Brian raises a brow.

“Yeah,” Trent says. “Yeah, okay.” Brian nods and takes Trent's cock back in his hand, going right back to his quick pace. Trent's chest heaves and he pulls at his restraints, his whole body aching, hips dicking up into Brian's fist. Brian lets him this time, and Trent keens, fucking his hand even as he keeps moving it.

“Ask,” Brian says, voice firm, and Trent just nods.

“Please,” Trent sobs out.

“Go ahead,” Brian says, and Trent nods again, feels his orgasm rip through him, spilling across his stomach and over Brian's fingers, fucking up into his grip. Brian growls low in his throat, working Trent through it, drawing it out of him, every last bit. Trent gasps for breath, too far gone to even think. He just keeps his head back, eyes lidded as Brian's hand leaves him. He pulls at Trent's torn shirt, probably wiping his fingers clean.

“Shit,” Trent huffs out.

“I guess the answer was _on_ three,” Brian says, and Trent hears his boots on the floor, going behind him. He's untying his wrists.

“Yeah,” Trent sighs, letting his arms down gently. The backs of them ache. He'll be feeling that for a few days. He paws at them, trying to rub the ache out. Brian kneels in front of him again, untying the laces from the chair legs.

“I say we go for another month,” Brian says, looking up at Trent.

“Fuck right off,” Trent says, raising his eyebrows at him, giving him a look. Brian looks back at him. “But. Maybe I can do three weeks."


End file.
